


Anchor

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Loves Dean A Lot, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Touch As Catharsis, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: “Dean.” Cas says his name and it pulls him back, an anchor saving him from drowning in his own mind.“Yeah?”Cas cups Dean’s jaw with his fingers, gliding his thumb over his skin, and Dean can’t help leaning into the touch. He looks up at Cas, meeting his gaze and finds Cas completely open and accepting, as he always is.Dean's chest aches with love for him.“Do you trust me?” Cas asks.“Absolutely.”Cas’ hand slides down to Dean’s neck and he steps in close, nuzzling against Dean’s cheek. “Let me help, let me take care of you.”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 233
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, but I started thinking about Cas bringing Dean's mind back from a bout of depression and got really emotional. So, you get this. The story takes place sometime in Season 15 -- after 15x09, but before 15x17 -- not really picky with timelines. 
> 
> Moral of the story is they love each other A LOT.

Darkness settles into Dean’s mind like a heavy thunderstorm, buzzing static and a ping-ponging hail of thoughts. This never happens when he expects like after a hunt or losing a loved one. Often it hits him in the quiet moments, like now, standing at the kitchen sink finishing up post-dinner dishes, his hands covered in suds. 

_ You’ll never be good enough. _

_ All you are is a burden to Sam and Cas. _

_ Cas doesn’t really love you, it’s only out of pity. _

_ You’re nothing. _

A plate falls from Dean’s fingertips, clattering at the bottom of the sink. He grips the metal curve of the edge and sucks in a deep breath, attempting to clear his mind. Earlier he’d been fine, laughing with Cas, Sam, and Jack at the dinner table, Cas’ hand joined with his and resting on his thigh. He’d felt happy.

Just like that it’s all gone, replaced with an assembly line of negative thoughts created specifically to destroy him. 

Dean glances at the few dirty dishes left bobbing in the sink and dips his hands back into the warm water. A few more minutes and then he can find whiskey or his bed and drown everything out for the next couple of days until he’s better. Hopefully. 

Focusing on the methodical process of finishing up the dishes, Dean zones out the negative thoughts in his mind the best that he can. Sink water sloshes against his wrists, warm on his skin while he rinses the plates.

It’s here Cas finds him. Dean hears his footsteps before Cas speaks, his cadence slower and weighted compared to Sam’s more quick-footed step.

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks his voice calm but tinged with worry. He comes in close, and Dean feels the warmth of Cas’ palm on his arm, covering the spot where his handprint used to be. 

Despite his waning powers, leave it to Cas to gauge Dean’s mental state just by looking at him. 

“No,” Dean sighs. There’s no point in lying, not to Cas. 

He unplugs the sink and watches for a moment as the water swirls in a whirlpool down the drain before wiping his hands on a dishtowel. 

Cas waits for a beat until Dean turns to face him and asks, “What’s wrong?” 

Dean huffs a cold laugh, what  _ isn’t  _ wrong _ ,  _ and gestures at his forehead with a finger. “It’s like a nightmare up here right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Thoughts fill his head, pinging around in his skull. 

_ He doesn’t actually care. Everyone always leaves you, Dean.  _

Dean darts his eyes away from Cas’ prying gaze and minutely shakes his head. “Not really.”

Silence stretches between them and a bubble of anxiety flutters in his veins. Dean wants to be left alone, yet at the same time he wants Cas to wrap him up and hold him, to let him cry, and not ask questions. The relationship between them is no longer new, but much of the time Dean still struggles with how to ask for what he needs. 

“Dean.” Cas says his name and it pulls him back, an anchor saving him from drowning in his own mind. 

“Yeah?”

Cas cups Dean’s jaw with his fingers, gliding his thumb over his skin, and Dean can’t help leaning into the touch. He looks up at Cas, meeting his gaze and finds Cas completely open and accepting, as he always is. 

Dean's chest aches with love for him. 

“Do you trust me?” Cas asks. 

“Absolutely.”

Cas’ hand slides down to Dean’s neck and he steps in close, nuzzling against Dean’s cheek. “Let me help, let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” Dean agrees, voice breaking in his throat. He clings to the sound of Cas’ voice, the touch of his hand, and focuses on everything  _ Cas _ . 

Cas drops his hand and twines his fingers around Dean’s wrist pressed right against his pulse point. “Follow me.”

Curving his palm into Cas’ and joining their hands fully, Dean follows.

* * *

Inside Dean’s room it’s warm, comfortingly so. His light was left on, a dim yellow glow now casts shadows over Cas’ cheeks. He holds tight to Cas’ hand even after the door shuts behind them. 

Dean watches him and waits, concentrates on the circles Cas is rubbing onto his skin with his thumb. 

Cas steps in close and brings their joined hands up to kiss the top of Dean’s hand. “What do you need?”

Dean hitches up a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I don’t know.”

_ Cas pities you, your weak human mind. Can’t even fight back against depression. He’ll leave and go back to heaven once he’s tired of dealing with you. You’ve never been worthy of him. _

Every brain cell making his mind doubt Cas urges him to run out of the room, to rebuild his walls he so painstakingly tore down over the past few months of the relationship between them. He sucks in a shuttered breath and releases it with a pained noise in the shape of Cas’ name. 

“Dean,” Cas says. His fingertips skim over Dean’s cheek butterfly soft. 

A swell of emotion rises in his chest. “I’m sorry,” Dean chokes out. “I can’t stop it.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologize. You’re hurting and there’s nothing I hate more than seeing you in pain.”

Carefully, Cas guides him the rest of the way to the bed until they’re sitting next to each other, knees bumping. His hand is still trapped in Cas’ and he holds on for dear life. It’s the one thing keeping him from drowning. 

For a few moments, Cas says nothing. He squeezes Dean’s hand once and leans in, leaving a lingering kiss against Dean’s cheek. 

“Can I touch you?” 

Dean squints at him, confused. “Uh?” As much as he loves sex, especially sex  _ with Cas,  _ that’s the last thing he wants or needs right now. 

“No,” Cas says, shaking his head, mouth twitching in amusement. “Not like that.”

“Oh,” Dean says, realization dawning on him. “Then yes.”

He expects Cas to kiss him to make some sort of move, a mode of distraction against the onslaught of darkness in Dean’s brain, not to continue to simply sit there, their gazes interlocked. Over the years, Dean became used to Cas’ intense eye contact, even craved it sometimes, how it made him feel connected to Cas in a way he’d found with no one else. Now, as his self-worth plummets, the constant attention is too much. 

A blush crawls up his cheeks under Cas’ gaze and he fidgets with the top of the comforter, rolling the fabric back and forth between his fingers. Darting his eyes away from Cas’ and down to his lap, Dean shakes his head. “Cas, I don’t ---”

Fingertips slip underneath his chin, tilting his head back up and  _ oh,  _ Cas is right there, eyes blue and wide and sparkling like stardust. 

“Dean,” Cas says, fond and regardless of his defeatist mind, Dean  _ feels _ the love in how Cas says his name. 

Cas drags his thumb over the edge of Dean’s bottom lip, slow and reverent. “I can’t read your thoughts as I used to, but I  _ know  _ you. And I want you to know this: I am not going anywhere. There is nowhere else in this entire universe I’d rather be than right here. With you.”

A sob rises and cracks at the base of Dean’s throat. He squints his eyes shut and a tear trickles down his cheek. With a quick swipe of his thumb, Cas brushes it away. 

Even if he was able to speak, he’s not sure what he would say.

Cas’ hand dips lower and toys with the hem of Dean’s shirt, fingertips ghosting over Dean’s stomach. “Can I?”

Dean hums an agreement and lets Cas help him to his feet. His mind is buzzing, but he focuses on the fleeting touches of Cas’ hands on him. Methodically, Cas slowly strips him, making sure to keep skin-on-skin contact at all times, a hand on his waist, a shoulder, or an arm slung around his lower back. Slowly, Dean’s mind starts to clear. He isn’t quite sure where this is going, but he trusts Cas, knows that with every touch of Cas’ hand he brings Dean back to himself.

Once they’re both naked, Cas gently pushes Dean back onto the bed. Dean waits with bated breath for what Cas plans to do next, instead, Cas stays near Dean’s feet, leaning back on his calves and _ gazes _ at Dean. With a gentle hand, Cas grips the ball of Dean’s foot and brushes a thumb up the curve of Dean’s arch. Completely bared and vulnerable Dean fights the urge to roll over onto his side and away from Cas’ insistent eyes. Instead, he forces himself to stay still. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Cas murmurs. 

A blush works its way up to Dean’s neck, highlighting his cheeks and he bites his lip to keep from saying some snarky retort.  _ Trust Cas _ , he reminds himself.  _ Trust Cas.  _

Cas, ever perceptive, notes Dean’s reluctance and squints at him, even as he leans in and kisses the sole of each of Dean’s feet, just once. 

“You are.” He says, firm, no arguments allowed.

When Cas looks back up, eyes locking with Dean’s, there’s no doubt in Dean’s mind that Cas means it. 

Dean isn’t sure what he expects next, but Cas kissing each ankle and leaving lingering kisses up his calves is not it. He watches in awe as Cas moves over his body, kissing him  _ everywhere _ , reverent and worshipful. He doesn’t think he deserves this kind of dedication, he never has, but for the first time, he welcomes it. Slipping his fingers into Cas’ hair he tugs, desperate to have him closer, until there’s no space between their bodies and the only thing he knows and feels is Cas. 

Pausing when he reaches Dean’s hip, Cas looks contemplative, strokes his fingertips over Dean’s hipbone and smiles, quite pleased with himself, when Dean shivers. 

“I need to tell you something,” Cas says. While he speaks, Cas keeps touching him -- fingertips soft as they glide over Dean’s skin, up his chest, dipping into his navel, smoothing down his sides, tracing his collarbones -- everywhere. “When I found you in hell, your soul was so... damaged by Alastair and the other demons, what they’d done to you, how they’d managed to finally make you break. I should have hated you, for what you’d become, but the moment I touched you, to save you from that place your soul reached out to me.”

Cas falters. One of his hands reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek, cradling Dean’s face in his palm. 

“I’d held human souls in my hands before. Many were luminous, brighter than the sun. Some belonged to saints and manifested as pure and white as new-fallen snow. Others were tinged with darkness, their glow diminished over time, but they were still good, still a work of art created by God’s own hands. It was an honor to even bear witness to them and yet none compared to yours.” 

“What?” Dean chokes out, emotion-wrought voice sounding foreign to his own ears. He reaches for Cas’ wrist for something to hold onto as the weight of Cas’ words hit him. 

“It’s incredibly rare for a soul like yours to be so inexplicably damaged and remain the most radiant in all creation, and yet... here you are.” Cas thumb brushes over the edge of Dean’s bottom lip. 

“Cas.” Dean can’t speak more than a strangled proclamation of Cas’ name, struck speechless by the words coming from Cas’ mouth.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, it directly defies everything I was ever taught. But from the moment I touched you I knew that I was meant to love you more than I should. I don’t think a bond like ours has ever existed before and I doubt it will ever again.” Cas kisses his forehead once, short and sweet and presses their foreheads together. 

Unbidden tears prick at the corners of Dean’s eyes. He’s not sure what to say, the weight of Cas’ words is heavy, but it makes sense and he loves him.  _ God, _ Dean loves him. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Dean. With every fiber of my essence, to the smallest atom of what grace I have left. I know that you have never loved yourself and I know that even with what I am telling you, you won’t find that worth in yourself, not right away. It will take time. But --” Cas covers Dean’s bicep with his palm, fingers spread wide over the place where the scar of his handprint used to be. “I want you to feel how I love you.”

Warmth spreads from Cas’ palm into Dean’s body, flows through his veins and settles right in the center of his chest where Dean imagines his soul resides. Cas’ grace makes contact with Dean’s soul and he feels lit afire from the inside out. Instead of burning, he’s submerged into warmth, a rush of peace and unadulterated happiness fills him. Tears slip down Dean’s cheeks and Cas kisses them away, lips soft on Dean’s skin. 

“Do you feel that?” Cas whispers. 

Dean nods, unable to verbalize what exactly it feels like. Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe what Cas’ love feels. Earth-shattering. Incomprehensible. Cataclysmic.

Cas loves him. Cas  _ loves  _ him. 

Sobs wrack his body, tears flowing freely and Cas kisses him through it, mouth soft and insistent against Dean’s, murmuring praises against his lips. He takes this indescribable feeling, this love Cas has so freely given him, and makes a home for it somewhere deep in his chest, a little nook next to his soul where he can take it out as a reminder the next time his mind decides to try and deceive him. 

“Dean,” Cas soothes. He slides his palm down from Dean’s arm to cover one of Dean’s hands with his own and slots their fingers together. 

Dean immediately curls in on himself and lets Cas wrap him up in his arms, pressing soft kisses all over his face. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Burying his face in the crook of Cas’ shoulder, Dean lets Cas hold him. He rubs soothing circles up and down Dean’s back, pulling Dean inexplicably closer and tangling their legs together until Dean cannot tell where his body ends and Cas’ begins. 

Once Dean’s tears stop, his mind finally quieted, he kisses Cas’ jaw, lips lingering on his warm skin. “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

“Every word was the truth. Is there anything else you need?” Cas asks, squeezing Dean’s hand. 

“No, I’d like to stay like this for a while though. If that’s alright.”

“More than alright.” Cas punctuates his sentence with a sweet kiss that has Dean’s heart flipping in his chest. 

Dean scoots closer until his nose bumps with Cas’. He reaches out a places a flat palm against Cas’ chest, right over his heart. The muscle pumps steadily underneath Dean’s fingertips, a reminder that Cas is alive and with him and plans to be for the rest of his time on this earth. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always I can be found on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels) and [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/anastiel)! <3


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